


What We Could Be And What We Are

by KateC



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateC/pseuds/KateC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war with the Mountain Men is over, The 100 return to live in Camp Jaha, but find themselves chafing over the rules imposed by the new council.  There is an eventual but inevitable split between them and the 100 branch off to their own settlement, much to the dismay of the Grounder tribes.<br/>*Editing to add Minty details****</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When We Are In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ms_scarlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_scarlet/gifts).



> Canon compliant character-wise. Plot-wise, we'll all just have to pretend that when Lexa went up on that ridge, she didn't take the deal, instead, she slaughtered every soldier. So she and Clarke are still friends, some of the mountain men still live, and Lexa returns happily to Polis, knowing that the Mountain Men will never bother her people again. This also means that there is no weird AI thingy in a weirdly pristine mansion, because frankly that makes all my inspiration dry up. And honestly, I wrote all this back in December during the mid-season hiatus, so I couldn't face reworking the whole thing. Enjoy!  
> Prompt: Sarah Reese Brennan's take on Bellamy from her livejournal recaps. (Season 2, 1-5, in the comments section)  
> Playlist: Pretty much the entire soundtrack for Battlestar Galactica, very epic and lots of angsty violin: Violence and Variations, A Promise to Return, Starbuck Returns, etc. Which is about the only thing I could think of that was perfect for writing a Bellarke love story.  
> Tried for smut, failed at smut. Couldn't write smut for an epic love story. Sorry/not sorry. But there are some delicious sexytimes.
> 
> This story was betaed by the fabulous ms_scarlet and the equally awesome welcometonerdworld.
> 
> *****EDITED TO ADD MINTY BECAUSE IT'S NOW OBVIOUSLY GOING TO BE CANON. YAYYYYYYYY!******************************

_No one has ever given a damn about him except Octavia — he used to have his mom, but then she was floated. He thinks about it at night, lying alone and in the dark of his tight quarters. He is as alone as the stars in the sky, forced to stand and wait, watching planets circle, watching life circle and ebb. Every night, he lies in his bed and thinks about the futility of it, rising each day to clean up the shit of the ARK, going down at night to sleep and wake and do it all over again._

_And it's not even that, really. It's just this endless day of plugging leaks, keeping afloat, staying one step ahead of airless and all with an empty bunk below him, because even now he leaves it empty. It's just the ache of wanting someone, anyone in his entire life to give a damn. It's just the necessary endless loop of his thoughts, hoping to one day see Octavia again. And it's so fucking hard to do it. Every. Single. Day._

_He would give up, going out in a flash of glory and a burst of released air, but he doesn't, because Octavia is still on board, holding out for him._

_Bellamy Blake doesn't abandon his own._

~~~~~

_It's easy in the dark, alone, to forget who you are. If it wasn't for the pastels, she might. If she didn't have the power to create the worlds pounding inside her head and pulsing through her blood, she just might. But the art saves her._

_At least, it saves her until lights out. There is a 5 minute warning for that, and then the pictures are shut off from her for the space of hours that they dictate to be night. And then she is alone again, dreaming about what she could draw to help her pretend that she is still a person and not a hub of memories. She wonders if there is anyone in the world as lonely as she is._

_She is cut off from her father (by death), her best friend (by betrayal) and her mother (by prison cell). She is cut off even from the other prisoners, for fear she will tell them what her father found out before they sent him out into space like a traitor._

_Just a single dim window for her, no real glance of the outside world, except for the slit that opens to slide in her food. So she makes her own world and her own universe. It is whatever she wants it to be and it is always a place that she belongs in, unlike the barren shell that holds her now._

~~~~~

“Well, you're not gonna believe what the council has put through this time,” said Raven, limping slightly as she entered the shelter that Clarke lived in with her mother. It was four short months since the fall of Mt. Weather, since President Wallace, his son, and every one of their soldiers were turned over to the Grounders for no one asked what.

There were little over a hundred remaining under the ground: the negotiated children and teenagers that Abby had insisted upon, as well as some actual adults to have care over them. It hadn't been easy, however, because Lexa had wanted them to eradicate all traces of Mountain Men from the underground facility.

 _Could anyone blame her,_ Clarke thought. _Practically everyone down there was an accomplice to the President's policy of draining Grounders and casting their bodies aside like trash_.

There were a few adults who had earned a stay of execution: adults that had helped Monty, Jasper, and then Bellamy take down the facility from the inside. Maya was one, along with her dad, and a few of their friends. The end result was a human settlement that would have to work hard to survive over the next few years. But with trade from Grounders and the Sky People, it would hopefully do so.

“I hadn't heard about anything,” Clarke said, while she reorganized the paltry amount of remaining medical supplies they had gotten from Mt. Weather in the med bay. They took inventory every week, as it was a constant battle to make sure they had enough supplies to serve their people.

Raven pulled herself up on one of the empty beds.

“Remember how they asked for volunteers to give bone marrow to the Undergrounders?” That was their nickname for the Mountain Men, since obviously they were not _all_ men.

“Sure,” said Clarke, wondering where she was going with the conversation.

It had really been a stroke of genius on Kane's part. They had negotiated one person's bone marrow for a year's worth of supplies for that person. There were still too few volunteers, because Dr. Tsing's postulation had been terribly wrong; it took several bone marrow treatments for a person to start creating the same filtering blood that a Sky Person did. And it was only for that person, it would not pass through their genes to the next generation.

 _But it's hardly surprising that she didn't consider the future of her people. She was a selfish and downright evil person, who considered nothing but her own pleasure_ , thought Clarke.

“They're looking for volunteer breeders,” said Raven, eyebrows twitching. “You're sure you haven't heard anything about it?”

“By which you mean, why didn't my mother say anything to me? Good question,” said Clarke, grimly staring down at the packet of medical gauze.

“I think I can guess,” said Raven. “The volunteers they want are women our age, from 18 to 30, prime breeding stock.”

Raven had clearly perfected her sarcastic tone, and Clarke couldn't help but smile over it.

“So, what are they offering for volunteers?” Clarke asked.

“Oh nothing, there's a lot of junk on there about 'the good of humanity' and crap like that. They're taking out my EBD over my dead body, which won't be much use for baby-making after that, let me tell you.”

They both laughed and Clarke finished her inventory, so she could go down and look at the camp message board herself.

There was quite a group around it when she arrived, mostly young women, and all of them were staring at the board with worried looks.

“They can't make us do it, can they?” asked one.

“I don't want to have a kid,” said another girl. “We're barely surviving here on earth as it is. The last thing I want is to be worrying about some little brat following me around everywhere while I work.”

Clarke couldn't help her mental agreement with the woman, as she had no desire to be a mother either—at least not now. Now was for building up Camp Jaha, for continuing to forge trade alliances with the Undergrounders and the local Grounder tribes..

“ _Women of Camp Jaha, specifically the young,_ ” the message began, “ _The time of war has passed, and we are ready to move into a time of prosperity for the people of the Ark. We are survivors, we have proven that. We are even now making inroads to find the last remaining Station of the Ark that landed on earth._

 _But we can_ not _just exist on earth and expect to flourish. We must maintain our numbers — ever dwindling, thanks to war and earth illnesses that we have no immunity for. No, in order to survive and attain a longstanding and healthy society, we must multiply and we must do it as soon as possible._

 _We, your council, understand that having a child is a large endeavor, and to that end we are not forcing anyone to remove their Extended Birth-control Devices. But we do ask that those of you as eager to better our group as we are do consider providing our camp with this great service. Those of you willing to answer the call, please see Abby in Medical to have your EBD removed._ ”

It was a rather innocuous message, but it had enough of Jaha in it to irritate Clarke. Ever since the wars had ended and the council had been reformed, their old leaders had tried to act as though nothing had changed. Clarke had figured that they were finally rid of Jaha, too, since he had gone off to find his City of Light. Unfortunately he had turned up several weeks later, ranting about bombs, sand, and desert thieves. Every single person that had gone with him was dead. Somehow, the council had welcomed him back with open arms and every day, new edicts and announcements made them feel like they were back in space again.

Clarke went to find her mother, knowing that if there was anything about the request for volunteers that Clarke needed to know, she could find it out from the camp's head doctor.

Abby was stitching up an unlucky patient in the med bay, having now returned from the meeting that had generated the newest message on the message board. The man was wincing and biting back a groan, but there was nothing to be done. Until they could find a way to generate their own pain medication down here, all pain relief had to be saved for surgery.

“I can't talk right now, Clarke,” said Abby, her attention moving back to her patient's arm.

“Mom,” Clarke started, but when her mom whipped around with raised eyebrows and an expression on her face that clearly said the conversation had to be private, she sighed. “I'll go help Jackson take patient histories.”

They'd lost every medical record they'd had aboard Ark, so every patient that came in had to be interviewed and given some kind of history before they could be seen. Dr. Griffin couldn't memorize every patient or their back story, so this helped.

When clinic hours were over, she helped her mom and the other doctor's assistants clean down the beds and sterilize the equipment. One of them went for food while Clarke and her mother discussed the cases of the day, going over in detail what the treatments were and how Clarke would handle them if she was doing things on her own. It had become Abby's way to treat her as though she was an apprentice, because the truth was, they needed every hand they could get to help with the numerous injuries and illnesses in the new world.

During the wars, Clarke had been on the front lines, stitching, bitching, and fighting along with the rest of them. The Grounders and Sky People alike had come to depend on her. And with the ever valuable Abby stuck back at Camp Jaha to tend to the more complicated of the war injuries where there was an actual surgical setup, there weren't really a lot of other experienced hands available.

“It wasn't my idea, Clarke,” said Abby, when they finally had a moment alone. “If it was up to me, we'd wait a few more years and let things happen on their own. I thought we'd have less pushback that way, too. Because unlike Jaha and Kane, I know what it's like to have a rebellious teenager lurking about.”

It was a joke, but Clarke didn't smile. She crossed her arms and waited for her mother to finish. Abby sighed and pushed her hair out of her face, before sitting down in one of the chairs.

“They wanted to make it mandatory, you know. They also wanted to add in something about a lottery for sending people to live at Mt. Weather,” Abby continued.

“What? You must be joking! You can't make people sacrifice themselves like that. They'll leave first,” Clarke argued.

Abby shook her head sadly. “Clarke, you must have realized by now that there are those in this camp who don't have the independence of spirit and the necessary will to live outside this compound. They are terrified of everything out there: bird, beast, and man.

“If the council chose to force a lottery on them, on pain of being cut off from the group totally, there are many who would accept it and hope for the best.”

“They can't float anyone this time,” said Clarke. “It won't work. All it will take is someone like Bellamy to lead them, and you'll find yourself with a split camp.”

Abby nodded. “Which is what I told them.”

Clarke was silent for a moment. Bellamy had been forgiven for his crimes, but his own presence in camp had been persona non grata since the wars had finished. As soon as the council was in place, they'd taken his guns and his status as troop commander and politely offered him a position that led to long trips away from camp. And anyone with half a brain knew why.

“Is that why Bellamy got sent out to find that last Ark Ship? So he'd be gone when you decided to make this post?”

Judging by her mother's guilty look, Clarke would have to say, “Yes!”

She remembered when the council had reformed and they'd asked to see herself, Bellamy, and a few of the other troop commanders.

“We thank you for your service to our camp, and we'd like to publicly recognize it before decommissioning you,” said Jaha, leaning back in his chair. His smug confidence was a joke, considering he'd just returned to camp with wild eyes and ragged clothes only a few weeks before.

All of them looked nonplussed except Bellamy. Clarke wasn't surprised either, though she did feel angry. She and Bellamy had discussed what the meeting could be about the day before, when they were informed their presence would be required by the council.

“They're gonna take our guns and give us a pat on the head,” said Bellamy, without bitterness, and with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

“They wouldn't do that. Your Ark group was one of the few that helped them actually win this war. We might still be fighting if you hadn't gone ahead of us and taken out the acid fog. Or opened the door for Indra and Octavia. Or let all the wounded Grounders go free. You sacrificed yourself, became a living blood donation so that the rest of our friends would live. You should be honored for that.”

“Clarke, they'd be stupid to let me continue to carry around a gun with any level of authority. First of all, it would divide their authority between us and them. Second of all, I'm a former criminal, pardon or not. War is war, but we're out of the tight spot and there's no reason for them to put up with me anymore.”

And it was exactly as he had predicted. So when they had offered him a position as head of the recon team, with some of the others as his group members, he'd taken it.

The others left the room, but Clarke stayed behind and stood facing them, arms crossed.

“You should be offering him a place on the council, not sending him off like he's done something wrong,” she said.

“Look at it from our perspective, Clarke. You have both done a fine job leading your people down here, very fine,” Kane told her. “But the time has come for us to lead our people into prosperity again, and we can't do that if the people are looking to two sets of leaders. Jaha may have pardoned him, but he's short-tempered and thinks too quickly for reason. Rash leaders aren't what we need here.”

Clarke put one hand on the table and pointed the finger of the other hand straight at Kane.

“You'll regret this, you will. None of you will be around forever and a leader like Bellamy Blake won't be treated like a Factory Station citizen for long before he goes off on his own.”

Not a single member of the council seemed concerned. Frustrated with their short-sightedness, Clarke left them sitting there.

“I'm leaving camp, Bell,” said Octavia later that night, when the group of them were seated around a table in the mess area, drinking what was left of Monty's newest batch. “Lincoln and I have no desire to stay here and be bossed around by the council. You should join us. Indra would welcome another good warrior, and you have certainly proved yourself to her.”

Bellamy frowned and looked uncomfortable. Lincoln and Octavia lived with the Grounders of Tondc half the time anyway, so it wasn't a huge surprise to hear that they were leaving for good.

“I can't yet, O. I want to, but...” his voice trailed off as he looked at his friends around the table, lingering for a moment on Clarke. “We need to find the other stations and see if there are survivors or supplies. It's honorable work and I'm spearheading the whole project.”

Her mind came back to the present with a thud.

“Mom, when he gets back from this last trip, there will be nothing left to hold him here,” she whispered, her mind moving over the possibilities of what might happen. The thought of Bellamy not being in camp at all anymore, even taking into account how often he was gone these days, was strangely disheartening. They'd been together for some of the toughest moments of their lives, something she couldn't even say about her mom — with the exception of her father's death, of course.

“Do you think the council is hoping he'll just disappear one day, so they won't have to deal with him?”

Abby sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“I don't know how a conversation about birth control came around to Bellamy Blake, but you must know, Clarke, that they'll never feel at ease as long as he's here to stir things up,” Abby said.

“I'm going to get questions about this EBD issue,” Clarke said, switching back to the main topic of discussion. “There is going to be a lot of uncertainty.”

“Just tell them the truth, honey. It's strictly on a volunteer basis,” said Abby.

“For now,” muttered Clarke as she went to find Raven.

By the next day, Clarke was actively sought out by practically every girl in the age range of discussion. Not surprisingly, only a few seemed interested in volunteering for service.

“They won't make you take it out,” Clarke told everyone that she talked to. “They just want to encourage us, make us think about the future.”

“Are you going to take yours out?” was the most common question. Clarke felt Abby's eyes on her when she answered, again and again, “I don't have anyone in my life who is making me think about kids.” She always said it with a shrug like she was saying that maybe she would, if she did have someone.

But Clarke knew she wouldn't. The world was too crazy, her heart was too anxious.

It was another week before Jaha approached her. Clarke was doing a simple wound cleaning, among the most routine of her tasks, besides patient histories.

“Can I talk to you, when you're finished?” Jaha asked her. Clarke nodded and returned her eyes to her work. A few minutes later, she found him in her mother's office, sitting back and relaxed, reading through her mother's current list of medical needs.

“What can I help you with, Chancellor?” Clarke asked, taking a seat.

“I think you should consider removing your EBD, Clarke,” said Jaha. His voice was neutral, but Clarke caught a hint of frustration in his tone.

“What's the matter, not enough volunteers to appease the council?”

Jaha's mouth twisted and he raised an eyebrow at her casual manners.

“We know that you have no one in your life at the moment. No need to fear a pregnancy. And Clarke, the other girls look up to you. If you did it, they would feel like it was all right for them to do it, too.”

Clarke stood. “This was why you wanted to see me? I'm not going to be the leader of the pack this time, Chancellor, let me assure you.”

“Clarke, please. For the good of the colony,” said Jaha in his best fervent tone.

“But it's _not_ for the good of the colony, in my opinion. Freedom to choose would be what is best for this camp. I'm not going to be the one to bow to the council's whims and if that's what you're all expecting, you will learn pretty quickly that council member's daughter or not, I make up my own mind,” said Clarke as she swept from the room.

She walked through camp, avoiding the main areas, as she couldn't take one more set of inquiring or hopeful eyes on her.

A hand reached out to snag her own, and she whipped around, ready to yell at someone for their rudeness, but it was only Bellamy.

“Don't shoot, Princess,” he said with his customary smirk, hands raised in surrender.

“You're back,” she said, kicking herself for sounding like such an idiot. Of course he was back, he was standing right in front of her, wasn't he?

He nodded once, and ran a hand through his sloppy curls — an old habit that made the tips of her mouth curl up a bit.

“I just got here and all anyone will talk about is this message of the council's,” he said. His dark and worried face told her all she needed to know about his opinion of it.

“It's strictly voluntary, Bellamy,” she said, placing a hand on his arm.

He shook his head and leaned against the side of the building he was next to. She joined him and tilted her head back to look at the starry sky. Nothing looked the same here on earth. Nothing. Even the stars seemed limitless and free, like they could burst from their orbits and galaxies and go find mates for themselves.

“How long until it's not voluntary anymore?” he murmured, turning to peer at her in the dim light of the camp.

“I'm not sure,” Clarke admitted to him, biting her lip. “Mom told me that the council originally wanted to make it mandatory, so there's no telling how long they'll wait to force it on us. Jaha wants me to volunteer now, to encourage some of the other girls to join with me.”

He leaned in closer, shoulder touching hers, making her breath catch for a second before she chided herself for being so weird.

“Clarke, that is ridiculous. Do you even _want_  to remove it?”

She shrugged a shoulder.

“I certainly don't need it at the moment, so it might be good purely for keeping the peace,” she told him.

“But there's no way you believe in what they're doing. Be honest, Clarke, what do you really think about it?”

“I think it should be the girl's choice. We're the ones who will have to bear the burden of their supposed sacrifice. And they didn't even talk to us about it. They also originally wanted to have a lottery to send people to Mt. Weather, to get more supplies, but that is on a volunteer basis as well.”

“As soon as they change it to an edict, they're going to make the consequences something big. I bet they'll banish people from camp,” he said with easy confidence. Bellamy always seemed to know what the council was going to do before anyone else did. It was one of the reasons she wished they had asked him to be on the council with them.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I think I'm going to leave, make a place of my own,” he said. “That way if there is anyone who gets banished, they'll have someplace to go.”

“And if you leave now, we can smuggle you some supplies. We'll have to be careful about it, though. They keep strict inventories of everything,” said Clarke.

“No, Clarke, you should go with me. I'm gonna get my whole team to go back to the dropship. That will be our base camp. Not too close to the rest of them, but not encroaching on Grounder territory. We'll make a real place for ourselves again, only this time we won't have to worry about attacks,” he said, leaning forward and speaking low.

Clarke shook her head and sighed. “I need to be here right now, learning all I can from my mom, while I can.”

“While you can? So you _will_ come?”

His eyes were strangely intense as he looked down at her, surprising her into total honesty.

“I can't imagine living in a place that doesn't include Bellamy Blake,” she said with a breathy laugh. “Besides, I think I'll be a frequent visitor. Find me an apprentice and I'll train whoever it is in basic first aid and the herb lore that I know.”

“Deal,” Bellamy said, and held out his hand. They shook on it, partners and conspirators, once again.

When Bellamy offered to head up the salvage mission for what was left of the Arrow Station, no one questioned him. When he took double the amount of volunteers, carefully culled from the remaining group of The 100, no one so much as blinked. And when they were gone for two weeks with no word, there was not even a murmur or question of their disappearance.

Clarke thought bitterly that the council was glad to see him go. What they didn't know was that there was a large group of them that were planning their own eventual exodus, albeit carefully. There were about 20 of their original planetside group left—not counting the others that had fought with them in the war and were loyal to The 100. They were working in various fields, doing further training, saving supplies here and there when they could, and keeping a close watch on what the council would do about the lack of volunteers.

As it turned out, not much. Clarke was privy to the numbers, she'd counted every one of them and categorized them into groups. And on her next trip to “gather medicinal herbs” with a few of her other conspirators, she outlined her findings with Bellamy.

“As of yesterday, 124 women have made appointments to get their EBDs removed. Of that 124, 80 are above the optimum maximum age of 30 outlined by the council. These are all women who either have children now, or lost them in the Ark's descent. 40 of that 80 are over 35, which is the last thing the council wants, because of the higher chance of genetic mutation. Of the remaining 44 women, none are from our group, 30 are above 25, and the 14 are leftover Arkies that were practically brainwashed into believing the council always picks the wisest choice. I spoke with some of these women, I know.”

Bellamy, Miller, and Harper looked grim. Monroe had the same deadpan expression on her face she always wore right before she killed someone. They were all sitting on the second floor of the dropship, which they had arranged into a de facto meeting room. The first floor was half a med bay, half a sleeping area, while they built long and low wooden shelters to take the place of tents, now that they were living and not just existing in their little camp.

A quiet girl named Liana was helping them by sorting through the herbs that Clarke and the others had hurriedly gathered on their way over. She was to be Clarke's apprentice for now. There was another potential named Paul who had a good grasp of what herbs were needed to treat different ailments, but right now he was still at Camp Jaha.

“But so far they haven't done anything? So maybe we did this for nothing,” said Harper, ever pragmatic.

“We did it for ourselves, Harper. Aren't you tired of being treated like trash because you were one of The 100?” Bellamy asked.

She shrugged. “No one treats me like trash because I'm not a threat. They just see me as a harmless girl,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

Clarke laughed out loud, because she had personally seen Harper gut one of the medics that had helped Dr. Tsing extract bone marrow during a particularly painful procedure.

“Bellamy's right,” said Clarke. “The council is clearly heading toward an overreach of their power. Thankfully, we don't have to take it this time. No one is floating _us_.”

The rest of the meeting was devoted to the next supply trip and when they could arrange it. Then Bellamy walked Clarke along the perimeter of the camp, discussing his plans for their settlement. He pointed out the building they'd started and the small garden they'd plowed, but hadn't planted yet. They were still waiting on seeds and some other supplies from the Grounders they'd made a deal with at the site of Arrow Station.

“We offered the tribe first dibs on some of the more useful materials, in return for them. They've also agreed to send a couple of tribe members to show us how to do some of this stuff, because no matter what any of us learned aboard the Ark, it's not the same as it is to actually be on earth. They must really want the scrap, because this is the first time I've had luck getting them to agree to trade on anything. But I think it helped that I told them I'd keep the site a secret from Jaha,” he explained with a wink.

She stood looking at him, awed at the amount of his ingenuity.

“You realize, don't you, that you've managed to do in the space of weeks what Camp Jaha has yet to do at all, after several months of conditional peace with the Grounders?” She shook her head at the short-sightedness of the council yet again.

“There's something else. I'm going to donate marrow to the Undergrounders,” he confessed, head down as he stared at his shoes. “I figure if I offer marrow for only nine months' worth of supplies, I can negotiate for stuff that we'll actually need. Living out here will be a lot harder than most people might think, since there's only a handful of us to erect shelters and get all the supplies for the winter ready.”

Clarke laid her hand on his arm.

“Bellamy, you shouldn't have to do that,” she said, thinking how a true leader was willing to make sacrifices of himself, rather than expecting others to be the ones to suffer. “Do you want me to go with you?”

He glanced down at her hand for a moment, and when she jerked it back, he gave her a half-grin.

“Nah, I'll be all right, Princess. Miller, Harper and I all talked about it, and we're going to take turns after I settle on the terms. If Harper can do it voluntarily, after all she's been through, I can certainly do it. I know it's not as easy as getting your blood drained while you're hanging upside down, but I can make it through.”

They kept walking and she felt the comfort of a long time partnership, the ease of the roles they tended to slip into. She couldn't help leaning into him, just a little, like she always leaned on him mentally. Just the thought of going back to Camp Jaha made her tired.

“I don't care what Harper thinks, I still believe they'll make it an edict at some point. It's just a matter of when.”

“We made room for you and the others to stay here tonight,” he told her, placing a hand at her shoulder to guide her back toward the dropship. But she resisted for a moment and he looked down at her, confused.

“Bellamy, thank you,” she told him, eyes upward, meeting his face looking down at her. He quirked an eyebrow at her serious expression. “If it wasn't for this settlement, we wouldn't have any choices. We'd just have to capitulate.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a friendly squeeze.

“Come on, Princess. You'd figure something out. You always do.”

“Maybe,” said Clarke with a shrug. “But that doesn't mean you're not making a real sacrifice here.”

His arm dropped to perch at his hip, while his other brushed through his mop of curls.

“You and the others are my people, Clarke. I told myself back when we blasted those Grounders to hell with the dropship that I'd always protect you.”

The last part was a whisper that sounded more like a benediction than a promise. It sounded sacred.

It was several visits and weeks later that Clarke was cornered by her mother in their sleeping tent. Camp Jaha was slowly disassembling the rickety structure of the Ark to make more permanent buildings, but Clarke still chose to wait on taking one. She remembered the taunts and side glances when she'd first come to earth. She knew what it was like to get something just because of her mother, and it didn't feel good to see that happening yet again on the ground.

 _Another reason this place will never be your home if something doesn't change_ , she thought as she pulled on her sweatshirt.

Clarke's mother had chosen to stay with her daughter, despite Jaha's insistence that she needed to have one of the nicer shelters to keep her good health. Abby dismissed this idea, saying that the people with young children and the infirm should have the first of them. After that, they should do a simple lottery. Clarke was thankful Abby was on the council.

“Clarke, listen, I've been talking to Mt. Weather over the past few days, and I think I've come up with an idea that will appeal to you,” she began, interjecting randomly into their daily routine.

“Um, okay,” was all Clarke could reply.

“Mt. Weather is desperate for some medical help since they lost Dr. Tsing and most of the other medics,” said Abby. “And you have the added benefit of additional herb lore knowledge and the ability to go to the surface whenever you want. They're willing to take you, Clarke, and if you live there, you don't have to worry about your EBD. Not only do you have six more years left on yours, but they have some similar devices that could continue to keep you from having children, if you don't want them.”

Clarke chewed on her lip.

“So what you're saying is, you found a way for me to live somewhere and not have to remove my EBD,” said Clarke.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Abby said, nodding eagerly. That was when it clicked in Clarke's brain.

“When are they changing it to a law?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Abby looked startled and then resigned.

“They're going to make an announcement tonight at dinner mess,” Abby replied. “You'll have a week to make your appointment, and then if you don't comply, you'll be turned out of camp.”

Clarke pulled her hair back into a thick braid.

“I gotta go, Mom,” she said. And then she left the tent, cutting off Abby's objections.

Clarke found Monroe at her assigned station, pulling rivets out of a panel to be used again. Everything here was recycled with a vengeance, since they couldn't readily make the materials they wanted.

“Monroe, tonight's the night,” Clarke muttered. “Get your stuff together and the other things we talked about. You and some of the others are going on a day trip. If anyone asks, I sent you out to get a bunch of seaweed. Make sure you get back before evening mess.”

“Why am I coming back?” Monroe wondered. Their original plan had been to just disappear and never return.

“Because what the council is doing is wrong, and I plan to make a fuss about it.”

She went from person to person, Raven and Paul and so many others that at first she thought she wouldn't be able to get to them all by breakfast, much less dinner. Then she went to eat.

Her mother had apparently decided to take the day off, because she walked into the tent in the middle of Clarke's packing.

“Oh, did you decide on Mt. Weather then?” she asked. “Let me go make a quick radio—”

“I'm not going to Mt. Weather,” Clarke told her. She was thankful that she'd already packed the pilfered medical supplies and sent them with Monroe.

“What? Clarke, honey, where will you go? You can't just leave here without a plan. Who knows what might be waiting for you?” Abby reasoned.

“I have a plan. I'm going to join Bellamy's camp,” said Clarke, still looking down at the clothes she was packing.

“Bellamy's camp?” Abby sounded positively baffled.

Clarke looked up and smiled, enjoying her mother's confusion.

“Didn't you wonder why he disappeared and never came back? Or were you all too busy celebrating to think about it?”

Expelling a huff of air, Abby collapsed into the tent's only chair.

“Of course I wondered. But you seemed so casual about it, I figured he and the others had gone to join his sister. I said as much to the council members,” said Abby.

“Well, he didn't. He still sees O all the time, of course, but no, he went back to our original camp and they all started to make a place for us. We knew that the council would do something eventually that we wouldn't be able to stand,” said Clarke.

“But why didn't you leave with him, then?”

“Because I have a lot to learn about being a good healer, Mom. And I'd miss you. So I stayed as long as I could.”

“Is he the reason you don't want to remove your EBD?” Abby asked suddenly, surprising a startled laugh out of her daughter.

“Bellamy? No. Definitely no,” she said, laughing again. “We're just friends, and comrades.”

Although her heart did a tiny leap at the idea of them being anything else... She dismissed the thought. It was silly.

“We're going to leave at first light,” said Clarke.

Clarke had given her orders to each of them that morning. So when dinner mess rolled around, the members of her group had scattered themselves throughout the area, seated at tables and standing in the shadows: waiting.

The rough gong they had assembled for announcements sounded and Jaha stood up on the box they used for the purpose to make his proclamation.

His lips moved, and Clarke heard the words, but she let them pass over her like water as she waited anxiously for her cue. It seemed to take forever and she rolled her eyes at his long-windedness, but she reminded herself that he was trying to make a point, trying to change viewpoints. And then he said it.

“The time has come to move from a system of volunteers to a mandatory arrangement,” he said, pausing to let the words sink in, to give himself the benefit of a small powerful moment. Unfortunately he hadn't counted on Clarke, who sprang to her feet as soon as the words had left his mouth.

“My body, my choice!” she shouted, making those around her gasp and Chancellor Jaha's eyes bug out. He started to say something, but Clarke shouted it again, “My body, my choice!”

The words rang out over the mess area and out into the camp. Everything stopped. Not a whisper or a thud was heard. Only the chirping crickets and the gentle push of a breeze thought to reply.

Again, Jaha began to speak.

“My body, my choice!” she screamed and this time, the others joined her, moving towards her. All that was left of the 100, plus the other women her age that wanted to keep their EBDs in. Then, slowly, as they chanted they moved towards the podium to face Jaha. While the others chanted, Clarke started to yell.

“This isn't the Ark, anymore, Jaha. We didn't vote for you. We didn't want you! We can do what we want with our own bodies and you can't float us for speaking out,” she yelled.

“But we need more people to shore up the population,” shouted Jaha over the noise.

“No, we don't. This world is chock full of people. You don't need us. New camp, new rules! New camp, new rules!”

They chanted until Jaha signalled for the guards to take them away.

Unfortunately, there wasn't room in the stockade for over 50 people, so the guards herded them to another part of the camp, all of them still chanting as they were led away. It was exhilarating.

When Clarke had told the 100 of her plans, she hadn't expected anyone else to join in, but these women who had chanted with her had wanted change just as much as she had. So in return, Clarke invited them to join Camp 100.

“We aren't going to live under the council's laws any longer,” said Clarke in the dimming light. “Everything I said was true. We didn't vote for the council. We don't live on the Ark anymore. We have other options.”

“What other options do we have?” asked one of the women. Clarke didn't know her name, but she'd been in to talk to Abby about her EBD.

“We can go join Bellamy Blake's settlement. Everyone there gets a vote,” said Raven.

There were whispers and murmurs at this idea. Almost everyone in camp knew Bellamy, like they knew Raven.

“It won't be easy. You'll have to work hard, probably work your fingers to the bone. But they've got buildings up, they've plowed land to plant food, and they've got a better relationship with the Grounders than anyone I know.

“And let's be honest, if we're going to survive on earth, we're going to need to live like the Grounders do. It's short-sighted to think our minimal supplies and what we can get from Mt. Weather will carry us through forever,” Clarke told them.

There were a few more questions about the living situation in Camp 100, but at least a handful of the women seemed interested.

“Most of us are leaving at first light tomorrow, but a few of us can stay a little while if you want a chance to decide,” Clarke said.

With that, they huddled down to wait for the guards to release them.


	2. Loss Is Just A Part Of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bell look for solutions to keep peace with the Grounders.

_He doesn't know why they let you watch. He once thought that it was their way of letting you say goodbye, but now he thinks that it's to warn you._ Be careful you don't go down this road. Make sure you walk the straight path, our path. Anything you do could make you end up here _, they seem to say._

_And they are right. He is terrified of ending up there now. Octavia has only him, no one else. Or she will once they push his mother out that airlock in a rush of air, marked by the uncaring detachment of her captors._

_She walks in front of him between two guards. He is also escorted under the fear that he might do something stupid._ How I could do anything more stupid than starting this whole thing in the first place, I don't know _, he thinks, with bitter self-hatred. He thinks a hundred times about how much he would give to take it all back. An arm, a leg, his own life? Each offering seems paltry in comparison to the idea that his mother could still be alive and Octavia still hidden under a floorboard._

_O isn't even here to say goodbye. They've taken her straight to the prison area, like she is a criminal just for being born. It is utterly ridiculous, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it._

_So he stands, silent, fists clenched at his side with such ferocity that they will ache for days afterward. He listens to every word of the charges leveled against her. He hates Jaha with all his heart for putting to death a woman who has committed the crime of getting accidentally pregnant and not realizing it until the baby was moving inside of her. How could anyone have expected her to let go at that point? Octavia was already a real thing in her mind._

_They allow him one last embrace, one quick goodbye, where all he can say is, “I'll always love you,” and all she can say is, “I love you both, take care of each other,” before they are ripping her out of his arms and hauling her away. They shove her in the room, screaming and crying for her two children, and it is so awful that Bellamy has to put his hands over his ears and turn away. It isn't until later that he realizes his shirt is wet with tears and his eyes throb._

_And that is it. His mother is gone forever to the cold of space._

~~~~~

_It isn't that she doesn't love her mom. It's just that she was always her father's daughter. Abby tends to see things in black and white, fixable or unfixable. Nothing in the world could interfere with Dr. Griffin's personal sense of justice — Clarke is just like her mother, that way. But there is a gentleness, a flexibility about her father that has always soothed the monstrous part of her, the organizational demon just waiting to get out._

_It is probably because she and her mother are so similar that she and her father are so close. So close that whenever she has a secret or a problem, he is the one she goes to, not Abby. Whenever she needs a comforting arm, or a listening ear, whenever she needs a laugh — which is so often on this fucking station — he is the one she goes to._

_Only not now. And not anymore. His sad eyes as he said goodbye to his wife, her wet face, tear Clarke up inside as she runs down the corridor. Her heart skips a beat when she realizes that she almost missed it. She almost missed her chance to say goodbye._

_They try to hold her back. Even Wells, who she now despises, thinks he has a say._

“ _No!” she screams, fighting them with everything she has in her. Jaha is unexpected in his mercy to let her through, but it is the only mercy he ever gives her._

_Clarke leaps into her father's arms, clasping him so hard that she feels as though she is letting a little bit of his body pass into her own. All the things she wants to remember about him: the way it feels to be in his arms, the smell of his skin, the comforting bass of his voice as he whispers that it will be okay — these are tiny keepsakes, that she swears she will remember forever._

_A watch, clasped in a white-knuckled hand, and one last kiss on the forehead are all that he can give her, before he is walking through the hatch resolutely. Then his body is flying away from her to live where the stars do, and she is a huddled, sobbing mess._

_~~~~~_

Bellamy wasn't sure when it happened. Maybe when she killed Atom, which he couldn't himself do. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't blown away by her strength and mercy in that moment. Or maybe it was when she dismissed his sins and told him that she needed him. He had started to view her differently, more than with friendship. He felt something soft and warm for her, but what it was, he couldn't name. Or maybe he was just reluctant to.

Sometimes he tormented himself with the puzzle of his feelings, when he was doing some other meaningless task, such as breaking ground with one of the tools he'd traded for with his bone marrow. Because just exactly what he felt for Clarke was always a puzzle.

Since getting those tools, he and the others had been able to clear some land near the fence line. He wasn't sure how many people Clarke would be bringing with her, but he knew that he could count on every member of the original 100 that wasn't currently living with Jasper down under.

His crop of choice so far was potatoes, since all the historical reading he'd done on the Ark had told him that a great many impoverished peoples had subsisted on them through lean times. The other crop was a tasty root that was similar to a carrot, but less sweet and more filling. The potatoes he had gotten from the Undergrounders, the root from the Grounders. The thing that was really worrying him at the moment, though, was the lack of time and resources.

The crops he'd picked didn't need much water or too much sun — which was a good thing, considering how forested their area was. But they had yet to fully erect a winter shelter, and weatherproof it, and then there was the time and effort that hunting took.

Things were going as smoothly as they could and he was expecting Clarke back for another semi-weekly visit any day now. Bellamy tried very hard not to get anxious when he knew she was coming, but nothing seemed to settle inside of him until he saw her face. It was then the doubts were stilled, because he knew that if there was any problem he couldn't tackle by himself, Clarke would know what to do.

The others in camp must have noticed his restlessness, because whenever he got that way, they suggested a hunting party. They'd recommended one that morning, of course. But today, Bellamy had no interest in shooting anything. Instead, he decided it was another good day to get his hands dirty.

He was up to his elbows in dark moist earth, planting small cut eyes from potatoes and enjoying every bit of it, while he let his mind wander over the problem of Clarke. Because she was always a problem. This time, the problem was that she was almost a full day's hike away from him. Because nothing was more annoying than a Clarke he couldn't argue with, or try to boss around, or pretend not to stare at.

He was leaning back from planting another spud cutting, sweat beading his head, when he heard them coming. The lone figure on watch called out to him and after wiping his filthy hands on his pants and brushing the sweat from his brow, he called back.

“How many?”

“Almost a hundred, I'd guess,” said Brewster, one of the former volunteers during the wars.

“Our people?”

He lifted the binoculars that were another Undergrounder acquisition and nodded.

“I see Monroe, Raven and holy crap, is that Wick?”

Bellamy, who had been afraid of invasion, suddenly realized that the group coming their way was migratory and that the council must have finally enacted a law that would impinge on the freedoms of the camp members too much for them to stand it.

He walked down to meet them after ordering the others to ready the dropship for the supplies they were bringing.

Raven gave him a head nod. He looked around and couldn't help noticing...

“Clarke's not here,” said Raven, never one to mince words.

His heart sped up, and he swallowed convulsively.

“She's fine, Bellamy,” Raven went on. “Chancellor Jaha seized all of us for demonstrating and ruining his little announcement, but he let us all go a few hours later. Clarke is staying behind for an extra few days to see if there are any stragglers.”

“Demonstration?” Bellamy couldn't help his grin. “Let me just guess whose idea that was.”

Raven laughed. “You should have seen her, screaming 'My body, my choice' like she was a revolutionary or something.”

“I can't help noticing you brought a _lot_ more people than we discussed,” said Bellamy. “I've only gone one longhouse built, and it's half finished.”

“Never fear, fearless leader,” said Wick with a sloppy salute and a smile. “In return for freedom over our procreation bits, we promise to slave away and build a fantastic encampment for you.”

“Well, come in, then. Sorry about the rough accommodations, but hopefully we'll be able to get something together.”

He led them back to camp, and saw several of them look askance at the rough buildings: the smoke house, the root cellar they had dug, with its rough stone and skin covering, the blackened husk of the dropship, and the wooden and metal fence.

“I know it looks rough, but we're doing well out here already, with half of our winter supply of meat already hunted, skinned, and cured,” he told them. _Of course that was before an extra fifty people joined our group_ , he thought.

“Say what you want, I'm happy to be here,” said one girl. “Planetside, under my own rule, working my way to prosperity.”

He turned to her and smiled.

“I'm Margo, by the way,” she said, and held out her hand. “I already know who you are.”

“Bellamy definitely has a reputation around Camp Jaha,” said Raven, laughing.

He decided then and there that everyone needed to make introductions. Most of the newcomers were women, and they were not only glad to be there, but they were eager to help in any way. Several volunteered to sleep outside without qualms. There were a few boyfriends and spouses, about a dozen, who were about as ready to be fathers as the women were to be mothers. But Bellamy's biggest surprise was that a few women who had already had their EBDs removed and one woman whose EBD had expired had decided to join them as well.

“I was never happy under Jaha's rule,” she said later that night, when they had eaten by the light of the fire and were now all seated around it, drinking some of the hooch that Monty had gifted Bellamy with when he'd last been underground. “Honestly, the council is so outdated and silly here. I'd rather be with a group that lets me have a say before making decisions. I may not always agree, but getting a voice is important to me.”

Bellamy nodded and looked at his friends who were finally gathered with him again. It felt good. It felt like before, when they had decided that no one would stand in their way here on earth. The only thing missing was Clarke.

He'd gotten used to leaving her behind to go on his council sanctioned scavenging trips. He had pushed his longing for her to the back of his mind, telling himself it was better this way. Bellamy knew Clarke didn't feel about him the way he felt about her — not that he was _entirely_ sure how he felt, but he knew it was stronger than what she felt for him. Clarke saw him as a comrade in arms, a co-leader, a compatriot. He saw her as a goddess, a warrior, someone who had the power to stir his blood and make the breath leave his body just by walking into his vicinity.

Being gone meant not seeing her, which meant less chance of her guessing that he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone else. But not seeing her also meant, well... _not_ seeing her. Which was practically unbearable.

It didn't matter. He would do what he could to support her and be the best friend he could be. That would have to be enough, because there was no way she would ever see him as anything else. He was the man who shot Jaha, who tossed out the radio that ended with 300 deaths that would probably haunt him forever. He was the one who had failed to rescue her from Mt. Weather, and hadn't kept Finn from running rampant in a village full of innocents.

In short, he wasn't good enough to lick her dirt covered boots and never would be.

Finally, about a week after their new members came trudging into camp, Clarke arrived with a group of her own. Her face was wreathed in smiles and she hugged everyone she encountered. Bellamy let her hug him, but didn't offer her more than a cursory pat on the back. Despite the single time she caught him off guard and he was too surprised and grateful to do anything but hold her as tightly as he felt he could get away with, he wasn't so hasty now. They had to live in the same camp after all.

“You guys will never guess how pissed the council is right now. We've taken all their prime breeding stock and essentially given them the finger to boot,” she said. “Mom told me that Jaha is trying to find some way of forcing us to go back, but of course it's a lost cause. They'll probably hold onto the ones that are too young to leave and old enough to feel comfortable under the previous regime.”

“But the rest of us are ready and willing to leave that life behind. Especially those of us who lived perfectly fine without the council and its edicts here on earth,” said Bellamy, slinging a carefully friendly arm around Clarke's shoulders.

The truth was he was almost giddy with delight, unable to keep the widest of smiles from lighting his face. Clarke was back, and the world was nowhere near ready for the maelstrom that they were about to unleash upon it.

 

~~~~~

 

It was amazing how quickly their lives slipped back into those old habits that they'd acquired when they were still the 100 and the Ark was still in the sky, judging them. Bellamy and Clarke were the organizers, the co-conspirators, the front line of diplomacy. Where they led, the others followed, with a loyalty that was born of hard battles and cold hunger.

Now, however, were the days of prosperity and Bellamy found himself looking less to his bow and hatchet — as they had not dared to take any guns — and more toward his plow, his building tools and his friends. With the help of almost 150 hands, the work went more quickly. They cleared a huge section of land for planting, and Clarke suggested the addition of some wild green onion transplants — since they could be cut several times and still grow back — and other herbs. There were four longhouses, and three small cabins. Clarke insisted that she'd be fine sleeping in the dropship, for now at least. Bellamy told her he had no plans to let her work herself to death, and that she would be getting her own cabin, too.

The garden, as they liked to call it, served another useful purpose. Once the plants came in, the deer in the area flocked to it, looking for succulent green treats. And thanks to the guards he posted over it, they had gotten more than a few unsuspecting deer to add to their winter curing. In the meantime, Octavia had come to visit several times and shown them how to fashion snares and traps to have fresh meat that would sustain them while they used their larger stock for the long cold to come.

There was just so much to do, and not enough time, really, to do it. All the cabins they had were being weatherized, filled in the cracks, and given firepits and chimneys for heating. Using Lincoln and Octavia's know-how, they turned their rough deer and other pelts into clothing. They were even sending a few more volunteers to give marrow, so they could get more tools and medicines that they couldn't get anywhere else.

In short, everything was going well until Abby showed up.

They were putting up a wall on the meeting hall that could also serve as a guest house when she came walking up the road to camp, as easily as if she was a member of their settlement herself. She asked to see Clarke alone.

Clarke insisted that Bellamy be there, at the meeting, which they held up in the meeting room in the top floor of the dropship. Abby looked uncomfortably at the two of them, standing side-by-side, shoulder to shoulder, but she said nothing about it. Instead, she focused on why she had come.

“The Grounders know you are here, that you've left Camp Jaha. They aren't pleased. They don't want to live in a world where the Sky People are spreading over their lands, and using their resources.”

Bellamy snorted. “We've been trading with a couple groups around here and no one has said a thing to us.”

“I'm afraid Jaha has put your mutiny in the worst possible light. He said that you and Bellamy are the ones who started the war with the Grounders, because of your youth and impetuousness. He laid the lives of the 300 warriors before you, and also implied that if you had a long enough time to yourselves, you'd start another war.”

“That is such complete bullshit,” said Clarke, making Bellamy choke back a laugh. He hardly ever got to hear her being so sassy, but the princess being sassy with swear words was pretty much his favorite thing.

He put a supportive hand on her shoulder. After that, she gave him such an appreciative look that he got turned on and had to try hard not to let it show in the most embarrassing way possible. Instead he looked over at Abby, who was pretty much guaranteed _not_ to be a turn on.

“And what did Lexa have to say about it?”

“You have a week to join the main camp before she loses her temper,” said Abby.

Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Pretty much sounds like something she'd say,” said Clarke. “Which means there's only one thing to do.”

Abby looked triumphant and Bellamy smirked at her. Because if she thought Clarke was going to choose the only option available to her, she didn't know her daughter very well.

“I'll stay here with you while you pack up camp,” Abby said.

“Pack?” Clarke scoffed, derision clear in her questioning tone. “We're not leaving. This is our camp now.”

She threw an arm around Bellamy's waist, causing him to stiffen for a long moment, before he decided to go with it and sling his arm around her shoulders. He shrugged at Abby, giving her his best “Whatcha gonna do?” look.

“Then what—”

“I'm going to go have a word with Lexa, of course,” said Clarke. “There must be an easy way we can put to rest this crazy idea that we're going to attack her or something.”

“Clarke, honey, just come back. Jaha will pardon all of you if you come back and get your EBDs removed,” pleaded Abby. “I didn't come all the way to earth to see my daughter only to live separated from her.”

“No one said you had to stay at Camp Jaha, Mother. You would have been perfectly welcome here, if you'd come,” Clarke pointed out in her softest, most reasonable voice.

Bellamy gave her shoulder a squeeze and glared at Abby, because honestly, that should have been the first thing that occurred to Abby when Clarke migrated out here. He imagined being apart from her as long as Abby had been and shuddered.

Clarke looked up at him curiously, and he shook his head.

“I'll come with you to talk to Lexa,” Abby offered, seeing her chance at living with Clarke slipping through her fingers like water.

“Considering how well your kind did at giving them the wrong idea, I'm thinking that's not a good option,” said Bellamy. “But don't worry, I'll go with her. I'm the other leader of this camp, after all.”

They invited Abby to spend the night and offered her food and shelter while she was there. She even sat around their communal fire, listening to them tell stories and make jokes. They each gave reports of the day and talked over solutions for the problems at hand. It was the way their group operated and somehow it made everyone work better together, kept the wheels greased and all.

When they finally looked like they were winding down for the night, Bellamy stood.

“So, Abby here has brought word that the Grounders are becoming anxious about our camp. Obviously this isn't a situation we are willing to tolerate and we have two solutions. The first is to go and negotiate with them, so we can continue our tentative peace. The second is to give up and go back to live under Jaha's rules. We'll put it to a vote, but Clarke and I are in favor of trying anything we can to keep our freedom. All in favor of the first option?”

The raised hands were an unequivocal vote for talking to the Grounders first.

“Well, that settles it,” said Clarke, sending a scattering a laughter through the group. “Bellamy and I will leave at first light. Miller and Monroe, you will take our place. As far as I can tell, we'll be gone at least a week. Abby says their camp is a few days from Camp Jaha.”

Clarke and Bellamy excused themselves to go pack. Bellamy expected Abby to follow Clarke, but instead, she walked into his tent like she owned it.

“What do you want, Abby?” He packed his things and gave her every impression of her lack of importance to him.

“Why are you keeping my daughter here? I know this whole Camp 100 thing was your horrible idea, and now the Grounders are threatening her life and your best plan is to go talk to them? If you really loved her, you'd send her home with me,” said Abby.

Bellamy flinched at the word _love_. Was that what it was? He liked to think it was just appreciating Clarke for the badass she was, and objectively admiring her overall hotness, and okay, maybe needing her around him all the time. If that was love...

He shook his head.

“Clarke never does a damn thing she doesn't want to, and you know it. When I came out here, it was her idea that she'd be joining me. And by the way, Clarke and I are friends, nothing else.”

 _At least for now_ , he promised himself. Though he had to admit, he had no way of fulfilling that promise, because like every other situation, Clarke was in charge of her own damn self. He only hoped that someday she would see him as something more than just a co-leader.

“You don't really expect me to buy that, do you? I've seen the way you look at her, Bellamy.”

He scoffed at her words and shoved his one extra pair of socks into his pack. On top of that, he laid his extra shirt.

“Dr. Griffin, do yourself the immense favor of staying out of your daughter's business. She's a grown up and has been since the day you sent her father to get blasted into space,” Bellamy said, eyebrow quirked.

Abby gasped and took a step back. Bellamy almost felt sorry for her, but his words had the effect he'd desired them to. She left his tent without another word.

They left at the break of dawn the next morning, starting the long hike toward the Grounder encampment that was currently hovering more than was comfortable near Camp Jaha. They'd made dozens of trips through these woods together, but never alone. It was an odd experience for Bellamy.

He insisted on taking first watch, and he did his level best not to stare at her and wish they were snuggled together under their blankets, keeping warm in the best way two people could in the evening chill. It was late spring, which meant that even though they were quite warm during the day, night brought on the cold that made them huddle for warmth around the fire when they stopped and made camp.

They reached Grounder territory by midday, three days later. The guards let them through, not even really looking at them. It was like they were tribe members themselves. At least, until they got to the largest tent, with the black embroidered panels on it. Then they were halted, searched, and made to wait while an armed guard went in to announce their presence.

After several minutes where they glanced at each other, and Bellamy felt his discomfort grow to almost unbearable proportions, they were gestured toward the entrance with curt dismissal. Bellamy held back for Clarke to move through first and ducked in after her. The room was empty except for the guards that flanked Lexa on either side of her throne of massively carved tree branches.

She looked down on them with a coldness that made Bellamy swallow hard and wish he'd been allowed to carry any of the knives he had for defense. She said something in Trigedasleng—he only knew a very few words—and pointed to a flap on the side of the room. They bowed to her and left them all alone. When they had gone, a huge smile lit her face and she stepped down from the throne, arms wide in welcome.

Bellamy blinked in surprise, but Clarke rushed in to hug her friend.

“I've been expecting you for some time, Clarke of the Sky People. What took you so long?”

Clarke pulled back and waited for Lexa to offer her hand to Bellamy. Her face was full of speculation and not a little suspicion as she said to the Grounder ruler, “I think I smell a set-up.”

Lexa laughed and sat on her throne, gesturing them to take a seat on the low bench to the side of her.

“I have a problem, and I had an idea that you could be my solution, Clarke,” she said.

“Well, by all means,” said Clarke, her voice and face saying that she felt quite amused by the whole thing. Bellamy wasn't so sure.

He'd been alone in the mountain by himself during the majority of their march on the Undergrounders, so he'd never seen Lexa smile at anyone, much less Clarke — the mastermind behind the death of 300 of her best warriors. True, they had been under Tristan at the time, but they had been following Lexa's orders. Still, he was a lot less worried now that he saw Lexa wasn't actually mad at them.

“So you don't really care about our small camp?” Bellamy said, catching on to the game Lexa had been playing.

“Not personally, no. You hardly pose a threat at the moment. None of those infernal guns, numbers at less than 200, and hardly a warrior among you. Believe me when I say there has not been a move you have made at your Camp 100 that I have not heard of.

“But I have been in a problematic situation here for some time, and I'll be frank: the Sky People have done nothing to ease my burdens.”

“Tell us what we can do,” said Clarke. “We are eager to stay on good terms with your people.”

“As you know, I am not just the head of the Trikru, but also over the other twelve clans. I'm a young ruler, and even though our last leader's spirit chose me as the next leader of our people, there are some clans that want to see me ousted and brought low. I formed the alliance between the clans with the promise of eliminating our danger from the Mountain Men, but now that the threat is gone, they question my role.”

Bellamy thought of Indra's bitter face at the final meeting they'd had with the Grounders after the two groups had defeated Mt. Weather, and he knew that not everyone thought the Sky People should have been given the territory they had been.

“The other clans think I should have destroyed you. They think your group has tainted my rule, overpowered me somehow, and is making my decisions for me. They think your Sky People have stolen my power. And now you've split off into two groups and will soon be growing and moving into more territory, I am sure.”

Clarke looked at Bellamy, regret coloring her features.

“We've put you in a hard position,” she said. “I'm genuinely sorry about that.”

Lexa nodded.

“I am glad you feel that way, because I think you can help me to put an end to the idea that I serve the Sky People or that they have any mastery over me.”

Her voice was so satisfied that Bellamy felt uneasy again. Clarke was practically falling all over herself to help, and Lexa looked very happy about that.

“What do you need from us?” Bellamy asked, dreading her answer.

“I want Clarke to come and live with us for a year as my personal servant and healer,” said Lexa. “This would show — if only in appearance — that I am the one with the power in our two groups' relationship. There are several clan gatherings throughout the year, ending with a huge one at mid-winter. When the other clans see that I am truly the ruler I claim to be, they will leave me to run things as I see fit.”

Rage and despair surged through him, pushing him to his feet. Clarke grabbed his arm. He looked down and saw her eyes filled with sympathy for him. He frowned and wondered to himself if he was more transparent than he had previously thought.

He calmed down and asked in a voice that was admirably steady, “And if we do this favor for you, what do we get out of it? Camp 100 will lose its healer because of you. That puts us in an extremely vulnerable position.”

She seemed to consider his words for a long moment.

“If you do this thing, to all the Grounders in this area, you will be like another tribe. You will not be strangers or uneasy allies to us any longer. Every member of Camp 100 will be treated like one of us, with all the resulting privileges. And let me assure you, Camp Jaha will get no such deal from us.”

As she said the words, his breath caught. To be treated like another Grounder camp, to have free trade and rights to travel through different tribes' territories without fear was the deal of a lifetime and would pretty much dictate Camp 100's ongoing prosperity in the future.

But at the cost of losing Clarke for an entire year, he wasn't sure it was worth it. Clarke was frowning and with relief, he was fooled for a moment into thinking she felt the same way.

“Lexa,” she said. “I need to talk to Bellamy alone and then, perhaps you could show me to my accommodations?”

The Grounder ruler nodded once.

“I will have the guards take you to your tent, and you can speak privately there,” she said, calling out for them.

Meanwhile Bellamy was feeling absolutely sick at the idea of being separated from Clarke for a year. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't. He'd just have to make her see how much they needed her. How much he needed her.

Neither of them said a word as they walked across the camp and were escorted to the small tent that would be Clarke's new living quarters.

He sat down in one of the chairs, trying to remember to breathe, because well, he was having a hard time of it. There had to be a way. She could negotiate them down to a shorter time. Or maybe she could visit every week like she had done when she was still at Camp Jaha. It wasn't ideal, obviously, but it was better than a year without seeing her at _all_.

“Bellamy,” she said, in that firm tone of voice she saved for misbehaving patients. He ignored her, opting to put his face in his hands, because maybe if he did she'd take it all back or come to her senses.

Then he felt her legs bump his knees and her hands touch his shoulders.

“Bell,” she whispered. He still couldn't look her in the eyes. He slid his arms around her waist and buried his face in her stomach.

“Please don't do it,” he said, into her sweater, holding onto her like she was his lifeline, which she pretty much was.

Her fingers moved through his hair, caressing his curls, moving around the edge of his ear, cupping his jaw. Then they moved to his hair again and yanked back, just the smallest bit, so he had to look up at her. He saw everything he was afraid to see in her eyes: resolve, pity, and kindness.

Bellamy moved his hands from her waist to the back of her thighs and pulled her towards him so sharply that she landed on his lap with a thud. Then his hands slid up her back to tangle in her hair before he took her face in his hands and pulled downward. His lips brushed against hers tentatively, waiting for her to object or push away from him. Instead, she leaned forward, bending him back against the chair, moving her lips against his own.

A moan broke from his throat and he moved his head, deepening the kiss. Lips pushing, warring, demanding, opening. His tongue touched hers and suddenly they were on a whole different level, jockeying for power in their lip play. Their tongues shifted and danced, first in her mouth, then back to his. She sucked on the very tip of his tongue and he made a sound in his throat that embarrassed him. He bit her lower lip in payback and smiled when she sighed and squirmed in his lap.

They continued in this way until finally, she broke it off and as she held his face between her two palms, she stared at him as though trying to figure him out. She was pensive and concentrating.

“Bellamy, I'm going to do this and you know, you _know_ it's the best decision. It will save our settlement, from Jaha and from other Grounders. It won't be that bad and maybe I'll visit,” she said, breath still catching from exertion.

She moved off his lap and waited for him to rise from the chair. She hugged herself, looking lost and a bit off-kilter.

“A year is a long time,” was all she said, but he knew that she was being her usual pragmatic self. A year was too long to expect either of them to wait, was what she meant. A year meant no commitments and no promises, was what she was saying. A year meant she would say goodbye as his friend and co-leader and maybe, if they still felt like it, maybe they could...

But there was no ending to that thought because it was too painful for him to think about. So Bellamy told himself to grow up, and accept her decision.

He hugged her, less like a lover and more like a long-time friend. He kept her in his arms and he ran a hand down her hair.

“Do what you need to do. I'll still be here at the end of the year. If you want me,” he said, refusing to let himself chicken out. He let his words hang there, then pushed away from her and ducked out of the tent. He sighed and went back to where he had left his things, then started the long lonely walk to Camp 100.

 


	3. The Things We Are Guilty Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will Clarke and Bellamy's reunion be like?

 

_There's nothing like the weight of 300 odd souls on your conscience to remind you of what a piece of shit you are. At first it is Jaha, but some deity — or perhaps the ghost of his mother — spares him the guilt of having the Chancellor's life on his shoulders. He still remembers the catch and release of tension when Raven tells him that his attempt to assassinate the leader of the Ark has failed._

_The worst part, the absolute worst part when he'd done it was that at the time, he'd felt zero regret. First of all, the man had sent his mother spinning into space because of a baby. Secondly, he would have done anything,_ anything _in life to make sure that his sister didn't go planetside without him. Just the idea of her being down on earth with the Ark's youngest criminals is enough to make him vomit._

_But when Bellamy learns that the hundreds of falling stars in the sky are instead hundreds of falling humans, shot out into space because he had sabotaged the radio that Raven brought down with her, he knows that he is beyond redemption. It only seems fitting that he should die somehow. Whether it is because of Jax, in the woods or Murphy, in the dropship, or even some random Undergrounder while he is out defending his hiding friends with his life during their final and horrific battle. It is all the same to him. Because he is the worst person alive._

_And there is not a single person, who feels the burden of that choice and can understand._

~~~~~~

_There is not a single person alive who could understand the burden of the choice she's had to make. Certainly not the people in Tondc, whose souls weigh heavily on her mind._

_But really, what else can you do when you're at war and your only chance of winning depends on letting a bomb drop? She couldn't give them their lives, so she's given them the only thing she can, a chance for their fellow Grounders to live the rest of their lives without worrying. No one else but she and Lexa could give them that.._

_But the problem is, she can't get the guilt out of her head now. They are always in there, with their pleading eyes, guilty of their own sins, asking her to save them. It keeps her up at night, or wakes her from a restless sleep._

_Sometimes, she dreams of how she and Lexa quietly escaped camp, knowing what was to come, which is torturous because of how much it hurt everyone involved after they'd done it. Sometimes, she dreams that she is being washed away in a literal river of blood and Octavia's voice is there, saying “Bellamy never would have done it,” over and over again until she wakes bathed in sweat._

_And the only time she ever feels a single bit of relief is when Bellamy walks up to her in the woods one day and says to her, “You don't have to bear this weight alone, Clarke. You know that all of us have made a choice that is unforgivable. I guarantee I would have done the same thing if we'd been switched.” At the time it seems like such a simple thing for him to say, but when she falls asleep that night, her sleep is dreamless._

_~~~~~_

It had been a long six months for Clarke, left in a foreign land with questions she didn't want to answer and couldn't even if she'd had the will to. Her place with the Grounders was at first extremely difficult, because even though a few of them knew what her true position was, many of the others didn't. The end result was that half the time she was treated like a prisoner and the other half she was treated like an outright interloper.

It had taken weeks of mending cuts, stitching wounds, and bathing fevered brows before they would even consider her a healer, much less a welcome addition to the military train that was under Lexa's command. In the end, she had won them over not with her kindness, but with her efficient skill. Warriors had no need for softness or gentleness, they just wanted the job done.

So Clarke did the job. And for her pains she was finally given a spot at any campfire she chose to sit at. Most of the time it was Lexa's inner circle where she was placed, unless the leader was meeting with other clans, in which case she was either paraded about like a blonde trophy, or sent to find another place to while away the evening.

But Clarke was Clarke and she made the best of it. Every time they stopped at a village or met with another clan, she made it a point to talk to the healer. She learned herb lore, so much of it that she got Lexa to trade for an old book with faded pages and some pencils — all extremely expensive — so she could start her own encyclopedia of useful and edible plant life. She instructed those interested in the merits of CPR and keeping a clean wound and basic surgical cleanliness.

When she wasn't pursuing her medical duties, she was taking advantage of her surroundings and learning to shoot an arrow better, wield a sword in battle, stretch a bow string, fletch an arrow shaft, speak Trigedasleng, and anything else she could put her inquiring mind to. Clarke had an insatiable appetite for all that she could gain from being with the Grounders and she planned to bring everything she found out back to her people.

Clarke had gotten so used to playing the part of dutiful healer and servant, that she had almost forgotten what it was like to be free and clear, one of Camp 100. Which is why it surprised her when Lexa called for her the morning they arrived back in the capital, welcomed by what Lexa considered to be her home village and temporary base camp.

“Ah, Clarke Griffin. We will be here for a little over a week, resting and stocking up supplies for our journey west,” she began.

Clarke nodded. The Ice Nation was the most unruly of all the clans, and since the war with the Mountain Men they'd been pushing back against Lexa's reign as commander, questioning her decisions and decrees. So Lexa had decided that the only way to retain their obedience was to journey to their largest town, where the ruler of the Ice Nation resided, and stay for the majority of the winter months. Clarke knew her role would be especially important, in this first year after the wars, when the other clans would be watching Lexa closely. It was part of the reason Lexa had gone on her campaign — to cement her standing and ratify her image as supreme ruler of her people.

“Since you will not be needed for this week's work, I give you leave to return to your people until we pack up. We will come for you on our way over to the Ice Nation's territory. Your Camp 100 is a few days west from here on horseback. Take what supplies you need, and tell your Bellamy I will see him soon,” she said.

Clarke flushed pink and hurried back to the horse she had left in her haste to attend Lexa. Nothing really got past her, and certainly Clarke had not been able to keep her regard for Bellamy a secret. Even if their conversations during the war hadn't tipped her off, there were sketches of him all over Clarke's tent, within a week of joining the Grounder camp.

But the most telling was one lonely night when Lexa had asked Clarke to join her for a cup of wine. They drank late into the evening, until everything was a pleasant blur of soft giggles and whispered secrets. When their imbibing turned to soft kisses and led to a night of gentle passion, both women seeking solace for a silent ache that could not be cured, Clarke didn't question her easy acquiescence. Lexa couldn't afford to form a lasting relationship with anyone, not since they had killed her lover, Costia. Clarke wasn't interested in a relationship while Bellamy was out there somewhere, like a lock she had to pick, but she needed a few moments where her mind could shift to someone else's needs and pleasures.

The next morning she woke in the bed of the commander, but her empty heart was still empty. She sat up, struggling to keep her tears at bay. Lexa's gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump and turn aside, wiping at her eyes.

“It's not you,” she mumbled, hoping she hadn't offended the other woman. “It's just that...”

When her voice trailed off, Lexa took her in a tender embrace, stroking her hair.

“No need to tell me. You love him, you spoke of him last night. It's Bellamy. And you hoped I could give you comfort, but you realized this morning that nothing but the man himself will do.”

Wiping at her eyes again, Clarke pulled away and gave Lexa a shaky smile.

“The worst part is that I didn't even realize it until I was saying goodbye to him,” Clarke confessed. “I'd always denied it before.”

When she thought about all the times she'd ignored his gentle gaze, his helping hands, his quiet support, telling herself it was just because they were co-leaders, she wanted to kick herself.

“You are his moon and stars, I saw the fight in his eyes at the thought of being parted from you,” said Lexa.

“Nothing escapes your notice, does it? I'm beginning to understand how you came to be called a visionary,” said Clarke.

“I envy you, honestly. Your year among us will be over and you will go to him. Meanwhile, I will still be here, alone.”

“But not friendless,” Clarke told her, clasping her hand.

They parted as friends, and sometimes even shared a night together, when it seemed natural and right to do so. But neither of them thought it was anything more than the necessary avoidance of painful loneliness.

As Clarke packed up the rest of her things, and got some supplies from the storehouse, she was grateful to Lexa for giving her this little bit of time. It wasn't enough, but to be able to see everyone again, to check on their progress, was wonderful. She had heard a few things, from the messengers that met up with them every so often, but it wasn't the same as seeing it for herself. And just the thought of the surprise and pleasure on Bellamy's face was enough to make her leave as soon as possible.

It was a three day's ride, over easy terrain until Clarke started to see territory that was familiar to her. It was mid-afternoon, and she knew that if she made good time, she could be home by dinner. She nudged her horse a little in the sides to pick up the pace and practically held her breath until she saw the first hard edge of a wooden fence line across the horizon.

She gave a start of surprise at the wide road in front of her. The trees had been cleared and the camp grounds expanded. On one side were large fields of crops, green and lush. It couldn't be long before harvest time. She heard the sounds of animals, she wasn't sure what kinds, but she could see that a great deal of space inside the enclosure seemed dedicated to some purpose other than housing.

There was a shout and then another. Then a great deal of noise met her ears and a literal crowd of people came flocking toward her. Her horse sidestepped and she pulled him up and patted him on the neck, murmuring soothing words. Clarke smiled as she saw Raven come out, not at a run, not anymore, but definitely as quickly as she could. Octavia ran flat out, shouting her name. But try as she might, Clarke didn't see the one face she was looking for.

She slid down from the horse and let herself be almost knocked over by the force of Octavia's hug. The two embraced for several long moments before Octavia pulled back. Again, Clarke glanced beyond her into the crowd that drew ever closer. Octavia squeezed her shoulders.

“He's not here, Clarke. He went to one of the Grounder villages to see if he could get us some more livestock for breeding, maybe even some pelts for winter. Everyone's going to need boots, soon,” Octavia told her.

Clarke's heart sank until it felt like it was about to fall into the soles of her moccasins.

“When will he be back?” she asked.

“I'm not sure. He didn't think he'd be longer than a week, but it's been two. Miller, Lincoln, and a bunch of others went with him. I don't know whether to be worried or not,” Octavia confided.

“Well, I can only stay about a week, so I hope they get back soon,” Clarke said, with furrowed eyebrows.

“Bell will be absolutely unbearable if he misses your visit, Clarke. You should have seen him mope around when he came back without you.”

Octavia looked like she was about to say more, but Raven and Wick caught up, then Monroe. Soon Clarke was overwhelmed by the welcomes she received on every front. Raven took her by the arm and practically dragged her back to camp.

“Clarke, you have to see what we've done around here. You're not going to believe it,” she said.

And no, she certainly could not believe it. Not only were there double the amount of houses, but there were also many more people wandering around inside their walled compound. But to top it off, there were two layers of walls. The outer wall surrounded part of the fields, and there was a low-ceilinged greenhouse along one wall. There were several piles of refuse next to it and she wasn't sure, but she thought maybe it was a fertilizer system of some sort. They had several ducks, which Raven told her they'd caught themselves.

“Once we docked their feathers, they couldn't go anywhere, and the females lay as often as hens do, plus their eggs are bigger. Honestly, I'm surprised we ever tried to bargain for chickens. So expensive,” said Monroe, who was the self-appointed head of animal husbandry in camp. After pointing out their wild pigs, she took Clarke's horse, promising to find a safe spot for it.

“Bellamy is trying for some sheep. We need better clothing than stuff made out of hides,” said Octavia. “But come see what Raven and Wick have been up to.”

So they showed her how they'd broken up the last section of the Ark they'd found so long ago, along with raiding the bunkers to salvage anything they could. They were using panels to help weather-proof the houses and the meeting house. The storage facilities had gotten even better, with an enlarged root cellar, and a meat house for storing the dried and preserved meats. They'd completely converted the dropship to be their hospital. The top floor was the storage area, for every herb they'd ever heard of, and any supplies they could trade for.

They'd opened up the wall of one side of the main floor, and welded in a patient wing that would sleep four. They had built shelves into one wall, and there were a couple of beds for treatment, not to mention some chairs and a very small waiting area.

Clarke was flabbergasted. She couldn't believe any of it. But there were even more surprises to be had, like electrical power.

“How did you do it?” she asked, marveling at the lights in and around their camp later that night.

“A combination of solar panels we stole from various sites and some hydroelectric magic,” said Wick. “I tried to get Camp Jaha to do it, back when we were still there, but no one would listen to me. It was the first thing I suggested to Bellamy and of course he went for it.”

Raven grinned at him.

“With the proviso that we fix up the Med Center,” she said, with a sly look at Clarke.

Clarke's eyebrows practically flew upward.

“Oh, don't look so surprised, Clarke,” Raven teased. “That man was on a mission for you. He insisted that you come home to a state of the art medical center — well, the best we can do down here, anyway. He even got Abby to come up and give him some recommendations.”

Clarke's face flushed and she was glad for the loss of light. They took her over to the meeting house.

“Not everyone participates in the communal dinner. Some of the couples choose to stay in their own cabins for dinner, but I have a feeling that this room is going to be packed tonight,” said Octavia.

The meeting hall was huge, much larger than Clarke remembered, probably because they'd expanded it when another fifty had joined their ranks.

“Jaha and the council have been holding on to the other settlement by the tips of their fingers, but it's only a matter of time before they find themselves ousted. The people aren't happy under their rule,” said Raven.

Alongside one wall were four cooking fires, all blazing, filling the room with almost uncomfortable warmth. Over each fire was a large pot, roughly made.

“It's as hot as hell in here during the summer,” said Wick. “So usually we do a bonfire. We forged those pots ourselves, from scrap metal and pieces from the Ark crash.”

Clarke went around the room, greeting people she didn't know, catching up with people she did. She was shocked when she turned around and Monty was there.

“Monty! What in the world are you doing here?”

He gave an embarrassed shrug and ran a hand through his hair.

“Bellamy convinced me that I'd eventually die of boredom down below. And he was right. Enough of the Camp Jaha survivors have moved down there that they don't really need me anymore. So I came back topside to help with our crops. These idiots wouldn't know a hoe from their own asses,” he said. “Couldn't convince Jasper, though. He and Maya will be down there the rest of their lives, I think.”

"Don't listen to him, Clarke," said Raven with a mischievous smile.  "Miller was the one who convinced him."

Smiling as his face flushed and he tried to mumble a response, Raven moved off into the crowd again.

"You and Miller, huh?" Clarke asked.  When he nodded, she smiled and embraced him.

“That's great, Monty.  And it's so good to see you again.”

Shortly after they all sat down to a stew dinner, supplemented with fresh berries and a mild beer.

“Monty has really outdone himself with this batch,” said Wick, raising his wooden cup in salute. “Now if only we could get the kiln right, we could have some actual mugs to serve it in.”

Clarke smiled and took another sip.

Octavia stood and raised her glass.

“I'd like to make a toast to our special visitor, Clarke, who will be here with us for another week. We're so happy to have you back, Princess, if only for a short visit,” she said, and the others joined in with, “To Clarke!”

Clarke laughed and even though Bellamy wasn't there, she had the time of her life, eating, drinking, and celebrating with her friends.

When the night was winding down, Raven put her arm around Wick's waist and led him off in the direction of their cabin.

“It was only a matter of time with those two. Raven fought it hard, but Wick is so easy-going. He relaxes her,” Octavia said. “Now, I think I'm going to put you in Bellamy's cabin. At least until he comes back and the two of you decide what you want to do.”

She gave Clarke a saucy wink and led her to the cabin right next to the Med Center. She opened the door and pulled a large switch to light up the structure's main room. Clarke looked around her, longing hitting her like a warrior's sparring blow.

There was a map along one wall, marked with little pieces of wood, to represent the different tribes' territories and who they were now trading partners with. The chimney was on the opposite wall, and the fireplace was cold and empty. There was a small table and two chairs, and a carved wooden trunk.

And next to the fire also a soft, low piece of furniture, something like a couch, but not as well made, clearly for sitting in.

She pictured Bellamy moving around in the cabin, cooking over the fire, sitting at the table and planning out his day, like they had done together. Then she spotted the door and moved towards it.

“That's the bedroom, so I'll go ahead and leave you to it,” she said, after showing Clarke where the bedroom light was.

Clarke put down her saddlebags next to the wall, turning out the light in the main room and in the bedroom. Then she stripped out of her clothes, and dove under the covers, sniffing happily at the scent of Bellamy that permeated everything. She snuggled down deep and pretended that she was sleeping next to him and let herself drift off.

 ~~~~~ 

It was two days, then three, then four that Clarke was at Camp 100, and she was starting to feel anxious. Yes, it was fun to see what everyone was doing, to teach Liana and Paul about some of the herb lore she had picked up while with the Grounders. She and Octavia even sparred every morning outside the camp, much to the delight of a few early risers. But there was no denying it was Bellamy she had come for and Bellamy was annoyingly absent.

Until the fifth day, when his group invaded camp with a cacophony of sound that had the ducks making for the corner of their pen in outraged horror. The goats were first, a dozen of them, all tied together and tangled like a mass of strings, bleating and running for their lives. They were odd-looking, with long black curly hair that almost dragged on the ground. After them was Bellamy, laughing and shaking his head.

Octavia, in her dramatic way, had flung herself at Lincoln and kissed him so hard he was almost falling over. _He is the right man for her_ , Clarke thought. _So steady, so grounded._ The others who were with him helped Bellamy move the goats into the pen that they'd built in case he was successful on his trip and they got to work cutting the ropes off of them, so they could wander a bit more freely.

Bellamy stood up, calling for Octavia to come give him a report, and he turned, finally moving into line of sight with Clarke. His eyes caught on her blonde hair and widened, then they met her own with an intensity that stole all the breath from her body. She felt them travel over her, taking in her different clothing, the long braid that fell over her shoulder.

The smile that spread across her face felt so wide she thought her face would split, his own matched it. He looked down for a moment, then up at her again and she wanted so much to throw herself at him like Octavia had done to Lincoln, but she wasn't going to do it. Not here, not now. Instead, she cocked her head at his cabin and saw him nod.

She didn't have to wait long before the door burst open and he called out, “Clarke!” This time, she flew into his arms and didn't let go, not even when he reached behind him to close and latch the door. They stood like that for a long time, just soaking in each other's company, until he finally murmured, “Are you back for good?”

Clarke shook her head and burrowed her face in his chest.

“Only a few days, until Lexa comes through on her way west. And I'm afraid I've spent most of them already,” she said. “I was devastated when I got here to find you gone, Bellamy.”

“Were you?” he asked, sounding astonished. He tipped her chin up so he could meet her gaze, and stared at her for a long moment, as though trying to decipher what she'd just told him. It was almost unbearably intimate.

“Bell,” she whispered and slipped her hands up over his shoulders and then around his neck, pulling his head down.

Their lips met and then suddenly it was like the world tilted and she was spinning so quickly, her senses reeling from the force of their want. His lips were tender, gentle, loving; hers were desperate. There were only so many minutes left for them and she wanted all of them.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling out her braid to let her hair fall over and around her shoulders. Her lips moved down the long column of his throat, over his bobbing Adam's apple, down to where it met his collar bones. She gave one side of it a gentle nip and felt him shudder underneath her. Clarke licked the spot delicately, to soothe the ache.

Their lips met again, this time with tongues interlocking, Bellamy still kissing her like he had all the time in the world to enjoy it, she pulling him close with her hands on his loose leather jacket. When his hands moved down to her hips to roll them against himself, she nearly died, but she pulled back and looked at him with a determined gaze.

Taking his hand in hers, she moved into his bedroom and stopped at the foot of his bed with him behind her. His hand lifted her hair away from the back of her neck so he could give it little suckling kisses, and she shivered. While he did this, he slipped off her jacket and then his own. Bellamy's arms slid around her waist and held her, rocking a bit.

“I missed you so much, Clarke,” he whispered between neck kisses.

Her hand went to run through the curls on his head as he pulled on the collar of her shirt so he could reach a particular spot on her skin. When that wasn't enough, he turned her in the circle of his arms, his hands moving beneath her sweater so he could lift it off of her. Clarke pulled his off as well, immediately leaning in to kiss his chest and run her hands down his back.

“I missed you too, Bellamy,” she said, kissing everywhere on the muscled expanse that she could reach, while he slowly unwound the cloth that bound her breasts.

His breath stopped short at the sight of them and he palmed them, gently thumbing the nipples. Clarke moaned and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his hands on her body. He brought her in for another kiss and she sucked on his lower lip, smiling when he made a hungry sound.

Bellamy picked her up and laid her on the bed. He kissed her again and then moved his lips down her throat and chest, stopping to lick the nipple of one breast and then the other. Her fingers tangled in his hair and he focused on that side, sucking the nipple until it was a brighter shade of pink than before and wet looking. Then he moved back to the other side and did the same, sucking just hard enough to make her squeeze her legs around him like a vice.

He seemed content to stay there all day, so she decided to give him a subtle hint and slid her hand into his pants.

Bellamy jolted upwards. “Clarke! Will you just hold on for a minute?”

He pushed her hand away, but she used the other one to grab him and jerk slightly upwards, laughing breathlessly at the sight of unadulterated pleasure on his face. Clarke continued her gentle strokes until he pushed her other hand away and held both of them up by her head. Then he knelt over her and kissed her, tongue slipping into her mouth.

When he dipped low to rub against her, she whimpered and squirmed underneath him.

“Please. Bell,” she whispered and wrapped her legs around his again, rubbing against his erection with determination.

Bellamy let go of her hands to pull down her pants. He bit his lip at the sight of her, no panties underneath the leather pants they had given her to wear. Such things were a Sky People luxury among the Grounders. Not that he seemed to mind, and he tentatively reached down to touch her, sliding his fingers through her wetness, making her cry out for the first time that night.

“For the love of god, Bellamy,” she said, grabbing at his pants, yanking on them.

“I don't want to rush, Clarke,” he argued, because of course the damn man could find anything to argue about. “This is the only first time we get to do this. I want you to remember it.”

“Believe me, I'll remember,” she said. “Now take off your fucking pants.”

He laughed at her, like he always did when she started swearing, but he obediently unbuttoned his pants and slid them off.

Her breath caught, because he wasn't wearing anything underneath his pants either.

He shrugged. “It's easier than trying to find them somewhere,” he explained.

Clarke reached out for him and pulled him against her, chest to chest. Yet still, he hesitated. She tilted her hips up and he sighed, seeming almost put out.

“Don't force it, Princess. I don't want to hurt you, okay?”

She took him in hand and directed him and he pushed in just a little ways. Using the smallest strokes, he moved until she was used to the feel of him and arching against him in pleasure. Then he lengthened his movements, sliding in and out in long, deep strokes, matching the pace that she indicated by her own motions.

She felt herself moving up a virtual slope, feeling every delicious movement that sent her higher and higher until she was so close to the summit, she could almost fall over the other side. Then, as though he sensed her near attainment, he moved a hand in between them to stroke her and send her over the edge.

She called his name and gripped him tightly with her hands as she fell away, down, down, down to the very center of herself. Clarke opened her eyes and saw the beautiful sight of him falling as well, a joyful look of release on his face.

Afterward, he kissed her forehead and claimed to be starving, so he pulled on his pants and went to the door.

“I'll be back after I've snagged us some food from the stew pot,” he said.

Clarke pulled her clothes back on and switched on the light in the now darkened room. She sat, pondering the pleasantness of electrical light, until he opened the door and brought with him two steaming wooden bowls.

“So how is it you have electric light, but no running water?” she asked, when he set the bowl in her waiting hands. He scooted under the covers with her and took a bite from his own.

“To get running water, we have to dig a well. We tried running a pipe from the river, like we ran that insulated wire for electricity, but it kept getting messed with, either by animals or by random things. But if we did a well, we're gonna have to figure out how deep down to go and how to get the water up here. We frankly don't have the tools yet, and neither does Mt. Weather. Wick has some ideas, but the ground is already too hard to implement them.”

“And what will you do in the winter about your night power, when the river freezes and ruins all your electrical equipment?”

“We plan to pull it in at the first frost, which should be in about a month or so. We have candles at the ready,” he said with a grin.

“Candles? Did you trade for those, too?”

“Nope. Made them ourselves. Out of tallow,” he said and grinned at her wrinkled nose. “I take it you're familiar with the process.”

“That's all they use in Lexa's military train,” she said.

“Candles made out of rendered animal fat are probably the easiest and most practical thing to do here. Way more practical than hydroelectric power,” was all he said.

After both of them had finished their meal, he took the bowls and placed them outside the cabin, promising that someone had offered to come pick them up.

“I think Campbell had KP duty tonight, so he'll probably get them,” said Bellamy. He pulled off his pants and scrambled back into bed. Then he wrapped his arms around Clarke, pulling a strand of hair around his finger to play with.

Clarke hid her face in his chest.

“I'm sure everyone and their brother had something to say about you striding into the meeting room, shirtless, hours after they'd last seen you,” said Clarke.

“I didn't mind,” he said with a low chuckle.

He lay back on his pillow and opened an arm in invitation. Clarke snuggled in and they spent a few hours talking about their experiences over the past six months. Bellamy was interested in every aspect of Grounder politics, and Clarke wanted to know how Lexa's promised new status for Camp 100 had panned out.

Eventually they drifted off, warm and tired out from the day. 

~~~~~ 

Clarke woke alone, and blushed at her nakedness. Sometime during the night, unable to help herself, she'd woken Bellamy with a hunger that could only be sated by his embrace. It was such a pleasure to have him, there in bed with her: to wake and know that she could touch him. She dreaded leaving again, the dark loneliness that waited for her was hard to push out of her mind when he wasn't around.

She heard a sound from the other room and put on her clothes after having to hunt a few of them down, having tossed them away from her in haste during their lovemaking. When she had slid her feet into her boots, she walked into the main room of the cabin and saw Bellamy seated before his fireplace cooking something that smelled amazing in a metal pan.

He was seated on the low couch, and the pan was sitting on a metal grill that stood over the fire. She sat down next to him.

“Good morning, Princess,” he said, and kissed her lingeringly on the mouth.

She almost forgot about the breakfast for a moment, but then her stomach growled and he laughed.

“Feed the princess first,” he said and stirred the food with a wooden spatula.

“What's for breakfast?” she asked. “It smells so good.”

“Salt pork, fried potatoes, and duck eggs,” he said, gesturing to the small basket that housed half a dozen eggs.

“Wow, someone worked up an appetite last night,” she teased.

“How could I not, when I kept getting woken up by my insatiable lover?” he teased back and she blushed again.

“Um... are the latrines the only place I can go to...”

He shook his head. “I have my own private bathroom that I share with the Med Center. It's out that door,” he said, pointing to a door near the far wall that she'd dismissed as a closet.

“How did you get salt pork? I saw the pigs outside, but doesn't it also require salt?” she asked, when she returned a few minutes later.

“That is one of my moments of pure brilliance, I'll have you know. Salt is a hugely precious commodity down here. To make it from ocean water is timely and very expensive. But Mt. Weather has barrels and barrels of the stuff. We bargained for one a while back and brought a small bag of it with us to a dinner with some local Grounders. Long story short, they went crazy for the stuff.

“We realized right then that we had a gold mine at our fingertips. So we asked for a few barrels of salt during our next bargain with the Undergrounders and that's mostly what we use when we need something we have to bargain with the Grounders for. I mean, it's great for preserving meat, too, obviously. But it's even better for trading. That's how I got the goats I brought home yesterday.”

Clark listened in amazement and then leaned in for a deeply appreciative sniff.

“Well, I have to say, Bellamy Blake, you are amazing as a leader,” she said, leaning on his shoulder. “Those goats though, they are odd looking.”

He laughed while he stirred the food. “They're called Angora Goats and we can use their wool and get milk from them, so it's like two uses in one.”

“Wow, you guys have thought of everything. I'm really impressed and I can't wait to try your breakfast.”

“Could you do me a favor first?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“I have some stuff for you in the trunk,” he said with a jerk of his head. “Could you draw me a picture of yourself?”

The low request gave her heart a painful squeeze, when she thought of all the sketches she'd done of him over the past few months.

“Of course,” she said.

“I tried to have Lincoln do one, but he could only do it from memory. My shaving mirror should be in there, if you need to see yourself,” he told her as she dug through the trunk for the paper and pencils he'd been saving.

His thoughtfulness made her think of something else, so as she tilted the mirror up to gaze at her face, she said, “I saw what you did to the dropship. It was... it was wonderful, Bellamy.”

She didn't say, _I know you did it for me._ But she knew he heard it.

“I'm really glad you liked it,” he said as he flipped the meat.

He didn't say, _I did it for you, because I love you_. But she heard it anyway.

She sketched and he cooked and by the time she was finished with a self-portrait she didn't hate, he was serving up the food. He looked down at the drawing as he put the plate in front of her and frowned.

“Don't you like it?” she asked.

“It's great, Clarke, but... do you think you could do one where you're smiling?”

She looked down at the picture again and realized she had drawn her concentrating face, where she looked almost intimidating. Clarke laughed.

“Well, here's an extra,” she said. Then she wrote on the bottom, _Bellamy Blake, stop doing that right now!_

“You can use it when you need a kick in the ass,” she said.

“As long as you draw me that smile you've got right now,” he said, and kissed her nose.

He stood waiting while she cleared up her stuff and then they sat down to eat. They were just finishing up, when there was a pounding on the door.

“Bellamy!” called Raven, sounding like she was about to take his head off. “I can't watch him anymore! Get out here right now or I swear I'll come in and see you in whatever state of undress you're in!”

“Coming!” Bellamy yelled back, gathering up the dishes.

“What's that all about?” asked Clarke.

“Um, I didn't just bring back goats,” said Bellamy, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his feet.

Clarke heard a yelp and a whine outside and Raven pounded on the door again.

“I swear to God, Bellamy!” yelled Raven through the door.

Bellamy ran to unlatch it, and threw it open. Raven pushed a furry, squirming body into his arms and took the dishes from his outstretched hand before stomping off.

“A puppy?” said Clarke, giggling, as she rose from the table.

“I call him Fetch,” said Bellamy. “Since it's about the only thing he can do besides eat, sleep, and shit.”

The puppy gave a happy bark and licked Bellamy's face from top to bottom.

“I guess he's gotten a little attached to me,” he said, rubbing the pup behind the ears as Clarke came over to get a better view.

“He's adorable,” she told him, letting Fetch lick her hand.

Bellamy sighed.

“I'll bet he has to go pee,” he said and led her through the camp. They got a few raised eyebrows and a couple of smug grins, but most people kept their comments to themselves. Except Octavia, of course.

“Well, well, where did you two disappear to yesterday?” she asked. She was leading her own puppy tied to a length of rope. “Lincoln says thanks for the puppy, by the way. I think he was being sarcastic, but I don't care. I love her.”

Bellamy gave her a smile that he reserved only for his sister and bumped her with his shoulder.

“You're welcome, O. I knew you'd want one.”

Bending down to pick up her puppy, Octavia rubbed her fondly on the head.

“I named her Butterfly. She already sleeps in bed with us,” she said.

“I'm pretty sure that's the part he objects to,” laughed Bellamy.

The spent a good deal of the morning soaking up the warmth of the sun in a little opening in the dense forest surrounding the camp. Fetch lived up to his name, retrieving any stick he could find, while different groups of people reported to Bellamy what had been finished, started, or had made progress during his absence.

Octavia left at some point, and Clarke found herself with Bellamy's head in her lap as he dozed. She brushed the curls from his face and wished that the two of them could stay that way forever. Unfortunately, all she got were two more glorious Bellamy-filled days before Lexa's military train arrived to get her.

But first thing was first. Bellamy and Clarke conferred with Lexa about all manner of things, how the treaty was working out for them, how their camp was coming along. Bellamy gave her a tour of the different things they'd done thanks to their new relationship with the Grounders. He also made her a gift of a sack of salt, for her to take with her.

That night, at the feast they had in the meeting hall, she turned to him.

“You are truly a great leader of your people, Bellamy. I am happy to see that Chancellor Jaha was wrong about your ability to keep the peace. Your Camp 100 is flourishing here. I must say, I envy you a bit. A commander rarely knows a moment's peace. Yet you all seem so happy here.”

“We're not without our issues, Commander. We just have one punishment, and that's banishment. Most people here don't want to try to survive out there on their own, and going back to Camp Jaha is just as much a deterrent.”

She nodded and turned to say something to the lieutenant on her right hand side. After a while, she spoke to him again.

“I am sorry to take your Clarke from you for the rest of my campaign, but she has proved more valuable than I thought. I really couldn't make my point to the Ice Nation without her. But I will have her back as soon as I can,” she told him, at her most benevolent.

“We made a deal, Commander. I understood the terms when we agreed to them,” he raised his cup in a silent salute to her cleverness. His hand reached for Clarke's underneath the table.

“We will leave at dawn tomorrow. If you wish to retire early to make your goodbyes, Clarke Griffin, I give you leave to do so now,” she told the girl across from her. Then she stood and wished them a good evening.

Clarke heard a ripple of resentment on her side of the table, but she knew that Lexa had to maintain her position in front of her warriors, so she stood, inclined her head in respect, and thanked the leader of the Grounders for her thoughtfulness.

After Lexa had left the meeting hall, Clarke made the rounds, saying goodbye to all her friends.

“Give 'em hell, Princess,” said Raven with a tight hug.

“We'll miss you, but we appreciate your sacrifice,” said Monty, shaking her hand.

“My brother will be unbearable, but I'll handle him,” whispered Octavia in her ear.

Bellamy said nothing, just patted his leg to signal Fetch to follow him, and took her hand to walk her back to his cabin.

The puppy immediately found a seat in front of the fire and Bellamy took her in his arms.

“I just wish, I wish I could go with you. Say forget everything, nothing matters, and just follow you west,” he said into the crown of her head.

“You wouldn't be the man I love if you did,” said Clarke, and stopped short, realizing what she'd just unknowingly confessed.

Bellamy took her face in his hands and kissed her, lips moving tenderly against hers. He didn't say anything, just picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

The next morning, though, they rose together and he walked her to her waiting horse. She hopped up into the saddle and looked down at him, the freckles on the bridge of his nose barely visible in the early light. They shared a long glance, and then she turned the horse to go.

“I love you, too!” he called, making her heart pause.

It was just like him, to declare something so publicly that it probably cost him every ounce of pride he had, just so the last thing she heard as she left the camp was him saying it. She swallowed hard and held back her tears, as she led her horse forward and blended in with the other warriors who were traveling away for the winter.

 ~~~~~ 

 **When We Meet Again**  

_A warrior comes on horseback, just as the last of the snow melts from the tall pines. The world is a mushy mess, but nothing they haven't dealt with before. What is really exciting is the way green things sprout up all over the place like unspoken promises. Every shoot is a kiss to him, every flower is a coming embrace._

_Clarke is a week out, she tells him. Lexa has sent her ahead to prepare her own people, but told the warrior to give Bellamy a message as well. The message has been received and gladly._

_He passes authority to Miller and Monroe for a few days, then packs his things and sets off in the direction the warrior has indicated. His feet are soaked and muddy in about an hour, but what is a little mud, anyway? The world_ is _mud right then._

 _All he can think about is Clarke._  

 _~~~~~_  

_She doesn't want to overwork her horse because she is a gift, after all, and horses are very expensive gifts in this new world of theirs. But Clarke can't help the happy anticipation that builds up, spilling over, practically forcing her feet to kick against the soft sides of her mount. And every so often, the horse will start and break forward in confused eagerness, before inevitably slowing down to a more reasonable pace._

_As soon as they had reached Woods Clan territory, Lexa had said goodbye to Clarke with a private hug and the tears of a true friend. They will always be close, but now it is time for Clarke to go home. So Lexa had told her to pack, given her the horse, and ordered her to hurry back to her love._

_Clarke is so close she can almost feel Bellamy himself, almost see home behind every tree and bush. So used to her silly visions is she that she nearly misses Bellamy when he comes through the trees and into the meadow in front of her._

_That can't be him, it must be her imagination. He looks too perfect with his dark hair lit by the afternoon sun and his shaggy pup, now up to his hip, bounding along next to him. But then he stops, looking up in astonished happiness, and she realizes... she is home._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone that read and left their nice comments! I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)


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